The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When Emily becomes ill, she begins to realize that having a friend in Aaron Hotchner is a beautiful thing.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note__: We're excited to announce our Round 3 of our Fanfic Challenge on "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum is up to 69 participants. And you still have through today (August 2nd) to sign up if interested. We'd love to have everyone, whether you've authored hundreds of stories or never written a thing! This is for everyone! The Dealer's Choice August Challenge is a great way to stretch your writing muscles! Please see the forum for further details. And if you've never visited the forum, drop by for a visit. Everyone interested in Criminal Minds fanfiction and/or writing is welcome. We'd love to have you! As always, we want to take a moment and say thanks to all who have read, reviewed, favorited or alerted our stories. We continue to appreciate each one of you!_**

**The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship**

**Chapter One**

She'd had that lingering cough for a month.

He knew. He'd been counting. In point of fact, it had been exactly thirty-seven days. Thirty-seven long, worry filled days.

And still, she'd refused to concede defeat. She was tough. But she wasn't immortal. And he was growing more concerned daily.

In the past week, she'd slowed down drastically. Her normally purposeful stride had waned until, now, each footstep seemed to be an effort for her. Her usual perfect alabaster complexion looked sallow. And he cringed every time he thought about the darkening bags under her weakened eyes.

She needed to rest, but back to back cases had kept them on the road. He knew he could have ordered her to stay behind, but, honestly, at least on a case he figured that he could watch her more carefully.

Each member of the team had tried talking to her, but she'd waved each of them off with a careless wave and a roll of her dark eyes. Evidently, Prentiss' didn't get sick. Ever.

She'd still been as convicted on that particular principle as ever, even after he caught her outside the local police station they'd been working at when she'd weaved on her feet, almost landing in a remarkably thorny rose bush.

He'd voiced his request that she see a physician again on the plane ride home that evening. And, of course, she'd predictably resisted. So, then, as the chief of the unit and a highly concerned friend, he'd been forced to do the deplorable in Emily's eyes.

He'd made his concerned request into an unassailable order, his flashing eyes daring her to argue.

Waiting with her as their other teammates deplaned, Hotch met Emily's blistering gaze squarely. "Why?" she asked, her voice harsh in the now empty plane. "Why can't you just let it go? I did my job as well as I ever do, didn't I, Hotch?"

Opting for the easy answer, Hotch tilted his head as his eyes perused her worn expression. "You're dragging, Prentiss. And when one member of this team drags, it slows us all down."

"That's garbage, and you know it," Emily bit out, her fingers clenching and unclenching. "Or are you conveniently forgetting that it was my interrogation of the witness that broke the case open for all of us?"

"I haven't forgotten anything. But your memory must be slipping, Prentiss. Last I checked, I still led this team. And I'm telling you that until you see a doctor, you're benched," Hotch replied evenly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared across the small airplane table.

Face tightening, Emily gripped the armrests of her seat. "So, you're effectively bullying me into a doctor's office?"

"If that's your interpretation," Hotch shrugged. "I call it looking after a colleague."

"I call it pulling rank," Emily snapped, narrowing her eyes as she shook her head at the man that had quickly been reclassified as a bully. "So beneath you, Hotch."

Shrugging easily, Hotch replied, "Somehow I think I'll manage to live with myself. Especially since you nearly passed out today."

"I lost my balance," Emily blithely responded, cocking her head to the side as she ignored the sudden urge to cough once again. "It happens."

"Not to you," Hotch declared flatly, rising from his seat and draping his go bag over his shoulder. Reaching for hers quickly, he slipped it out from underneath her hand.

"Now what are you doing?" Emily asked impatiently as she stood up slowly, watching Hotch easily sling the black case over his arm.

"Escorting you," he answered tersely, stepping aside so that she could precede him down the narrow aisle of the jet.

"Escorting me where?" Emily groaned, moving slowly toward the exit, her legs protesting the simple effort.

"To the doctor. There's a twenty-four hour emergency care facility just blocks from my brownstone. We can be in and out in a couple of hours," Hotch explained, reaching for her arm as she progressed down the folding metal steps toward the ground.

She'd never admit it under pain of death, but Emily was relieved to feel his solid grip surrounding her forearm as black spots danced in front of her eyes as she descended toward level ground. Damn, when had things gotten so bad? She'd been under the weather this morning...hell, the past several mornings…but nothing this pronounced. "Fine," Emily grumbled as she tried to swallow, "but, you're driving."

"You won't get any argument on that from me," Hotch nodded, guiding her to his parked SUV.

Three and a half hours later, Hotch guided a groggy Emily up the flagstone path toward his brownstone. Clamping down on his agitation, he shook his head again as he heard Emily grumble behind him, her agitated voice filled with as much anger as hoarseness.

"For the fourth time, Prentiss, you heard the doctor. It's either my guest bedroom or the hospital," Hotch said over his shoulder, keeping a watchful eye on the slender woman as she leaned her shoulder against the brick of his building. "Which would you prefer?"

"This is ridiculous," Emily retorted, her voice still raspy from the breathing treatment those so-called medical professionals had forced on her. "It's a cold, Hotch."

"No," Hotch returned patiently, efficiently unlocking the door and flipping on his porch light in one smooth motion, illuminating them both in a warm golden glow, "It's walking pneumonia and it can be extremely dangerous."

"Can be," Emily pointed out with the skill of a seasoned defense attorney, "Not is. And I don't think it's in your job description to play nursemaid to a vaguely ill colleague, Hotch."

"First, there's nothing vague about this illness," Hotch began, reaching out to tug her by the arm into the foyer of his home. "I was standing right beside you when the doctor showed us your x-rays. Second, I've already explained three times that it's no problem. Jack's away at camp for the next week. You'll be able to spend the entire weekend recuperating under my watchful eye."

"You mean your autocratic authority," Emily snorted, covering her mouth as she coughed weakly, trying to keep her breaths shallow. Damn, when had her chest began to hurt so badly?

Maybe Aaron Hotchner was right after all, she thought as she pressed a hand to her neck. Maybe she might need to take a moment to recover. She just never thought she'd be doing her recovering in his home.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Hello, all! Thanks to everyone reading reviewing, alerting and/or favoriting our stories. We appreciate each one of you for taking the time to do so! Just to let you know, we have a new interview up on "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum with the very talented Moon Raven2! Please stop by and take a look. Details on our Fanfic Challenge Round Four will be up shortly as well. Thanks for reading!**_

**The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship**

**Chapter Two**

Narrowing his eyes as he watched her cheeks redden even further, Hotch merely nodded in answer to her muttered statement. "If you choose to think so," Hotch stated evenly, not bothering to rise to the bait as he hung his suit jacket on the coat rack in the hallway and gestured for hers.

Handing it over reluctantly, Emily frowned as she glanced around the small entryway. "I could stay with JJ..."

"And risk letting Henry catch something?" Hotch asked, deftly arranging the outergarments on the rack. "No," he said definitively.

"Or Garcia," Emily offered gamely, her brow furrowing as she searched for viable options.

"Already on her way to New Hampshire to meet Kevin's parents."

"Fine," Emily muttered defeatedly, stuffing a cold hand into her pockets, "I could call the Ambassador."

Lips twitching, Hotch arched one dark brow. "Really?" he drawled amusedly.

Grimacing, Emily took only a moment to shake her head quickly. "No," she huffed, mentally ignoring the fact that she must be extremely ill if she was voluntarily considering the services of her patrician mother as a nursemaid.

"That's what I thought," Hotch smirked, pointing through the arched doorway behind her. "The den is through there. Make yourself at home," he said, taking the white pharmacy bag from between her cold fingers. "I'll bring you your medication and something to drink and then I'll show you to the spare bedroom."

Watching his retreating back as he strode gracefully down the dimly-lit hallway, Emily shook her head blankly. Why the hell was he taking such an interest? It wasn't as though they were close, personal friends. Sure, she'd nursed a girlish crush on him for as long as she'd been in the unit, but it had never been reciprocated. Of course, she'd never shared her personal feelings about him with anyone, so, hopefully, they'd remain one of the things located in one of the many boxes in her mind. Hopefully.

Sighing, she turned toward the room he'd indicated, feeling around for the light switch on the wall. Laughing hoarsely as she heard Hotch belatedly call, "Light switch is on the right!", Emily quickly found it.

As the room suddenly lightened, she looked around at the comfortable surroundings. A brown leather couch graced one whole wall while a plasma television was mounted along the facing wall. In one corner of the room, Hotch had set up his home office, complete with a polished cherry wood desk and computer. And as her eyes traveled to the opposite corner, she smiled gently, her heart lightening for a moment. Jack's corner. Toys and books abounded, along with a child size replica of his father's recliner.

Hearing Hotch walk back into the room, his footsteps sure, Emily nodded toward the chair. "Your son really is a mini-Hotch, isn't he?" she asked lightly, her voice a little hoarse even to her own ears.

"He likes to think so," Hotch nodded with a faint, but proud smile. "I like to think he's a little more personable than me." Handing over her pills and a plastic bottle of juice, he ordered, "Here, take these. And drink that whole bottle, Prentiss. You heard what they told you about drinking plenty of fluids."

"Yes, mother," Emily mocked, rolling her eyes as she accepted the pills and bottle from his hand, her fingers having to grip tightly to avoid dropping the slick bottle.

"Rule one," Hotch said firmly, wagging one finger in the air, "At no time during the next forty-eight hours do you get to compare me to the Ambassador."

"Don't act like her then," Emily shrugged, throwing the pills to the back of her throat and swigging the apple juice, the liquid a welcome coolness on her parched throat.

"I didn't think I was," Hotch replied innocently, cocking his head as he assessed Emily's face. Flushed cheeks, but that could be explained by the fever she'd been running. A little congested, but then, she DID have pneumonia. But, luckily, she wasn't breathing quite so heavily since the treatment they'd given her.

"Oh, please," Emily quipped, slipping the lid back onto the bottle as she avoided his penetrating gaze. "You and my mother have made being imperious into an art form."

"Actually, that I'll take as a complement. Few cross your mother more than once," Hotch returned impassively, watching closely as she seemed to sway slightly again. "Come on, Prentiss," he said, jerking his head toward the stairs as he slid his fingers underneath her elbow, "I'll show you to your room."

"So," Hotch said conversationally, opening the paneled door, "this is it," he continued, again stepping inside to allow her to precede him into the spare bedroom.

Breath catching in her throat as she walked into the room, Emily's eyes widened as she took in the polished wooden sleigh bed covered with a handmade quilt, the matching chest and dresser, and the ornately carved cheval mirror in the corner. "Hotch," she whispered, lightly touching the wooden dresser almost reverently, "this is beautiful."

"It was my grandmother's bedroom suite. It came to me when my mother died. It's old, but Sean said the mattress was holding up okay the last time he slept in here. That was about six months ago," Hotch said from the doorway, his shoulder leaned lightly against the frame as he watched her appreciate his family heirlooms. For some inexplicable reason, that seemed provide him with some sense of happiness.

Trailing careful fingertips along the stitched quilt, Emily shook her head as she murmured, "Your grandmother had exquisite taste, Hotch. A bed like this...it's not meant to be slept in."

"It's just a bed, Prentiss," Hotch said, his lips twitching in amusement as she seemed to almost stroke the coverlet.

"Just a bed? Are you kidding? This is a work of art...a priceless family antique," Emily told him with rounded eyes.

"It's also where you'll be sleeping tonight," Hotch told her firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hotch...no," Emily shook her head. "I can crash on the couch downstairs. I'm sure I'd be just as comfortable..."

"Let me put it to you in terms you might better understand then," Hotch stated softly. "Either you can sleep in the bed in front of you," Hotch said, gesturing at his grandmother's furniture, "or you can sleep across the hall with me. But, believe me, you are going to get some real rest tonight. Your doctor said that it was the most important ingredient to your recovery."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: Hello, all! Thanks to everyone reading reviewing, alerting and/or favoriting our stories. We appreciate each one of you for taking the time to do so! Just to let you know, we have a new interview up on "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum with the very talented Moon Raven2! Please stop by and take a look. Details on our Fanfic Challenge Round Four will be up shortly as well. Thanks for reading!**_

**The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship**

**Chapter Three**

Heart stuttering at his tongue-in-cheek offer to share his bed, Emily hoped her boss would chalk up her reddening cheeks to being feverish. Deciding to do what she did best and redirect, Emily shook her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. "He was YOUR doctor, Hotch. I'D never seen him before in my life."

"I assure you that he's a reputable physician. Jack and I have seen him dozens of times. And you're stalling. Where are you sleeping? This bed or mine?" he asked, trying to ignore the demon sitting on his shoulder telling him to imagine all the things he could do to Emily within the confines of his bed. In spite of the obvious temptation standing only mere feet away from him, he stifled his only-normal urges, reminding himself sternly that the woman in question…the beautiful, amazing, stunning woman in question…was decidedly under the weather and therefore completely out of bounds.

Swallowing quickly, Emily watched his firm lips compress together, his eyes watching her carefully as she made her choice. "Here," Emily said softly, feeling for a moment that far more was at stake than a mere night's sleep. "Thank you, Hotch."

"Aaron," Hotch corrected immediately, shaking his dark head. Seeing Emily's mild shock at his amendment to their status quo, he explained easily, "We're off the clock and I'm taking care of you. For this weekend at least, maybe it would be better for you to call me Aaron and for me to call you Emily."

"Does this mean you'll put a moratorium on giving me orders?" Emily asked hopefully, her eyes mocking him as she let a faint smile play on her lips.

"Probably not," Hotch replied truthfully, leaning his shoulder against the wooden door frame again.

"Well, I had to try," Emily returned easily.

"I understand," Hotch nodded. Motioning from side to side, he explained, "The bathroom is the last door down the hallway on your left. Towels and anything else you might need are in the closet. I already put your go back in the closet over there," he said, pointing to a door in the corner of the room. My bedroom door is directly across from yours and I'll leave it open in case you need me tonight. Sing out if you need anything, Emily," Hotch directed, tightening his fingers around her doorknob.

"I will," Emily nodded, smiling slightly as she imagined all of the songs that suddenly sprung oh-so-quickly to her fevered mind. "Thanks, Hotch."

"Goodnight, Emily," he said softly before pulling the door softly shut.

And as she stared at that closed wooden door, Emily sunk to the edge of the perfect bed as she wondered, not for the first time, exactly how she had managed to find herself here...spending the night….in Aaron's Hotchner's home.

Lifting his head slightly a couple of hours later, Aaron Hotchner punched furtively at the pillow bunched beneath him. For the first time in years, he had a woman sleeping under his roof again. And, like the last time, she wasn't sharing his bed. Although, he conceded unwillingly, at least Emily had a good reason. She wasn't his wife, after all.

Thank God.

He had to admit though, he thought, glaring accusing at the fluorescent light of the alarm clock beside his bed, lately, he spent as much time thinking about her as he had his former spouse. Honestly, musings about Prentiss and her wellbeing had consumed him recently. Perhaps because for the first time since they'd began working together four years ago, she didn't seem quite so...invincible. Sure, he'd seen flashes of vulnerability in the past few years. But nothing overt. Nothing he could point to and say, definitively…there...there's a crack.

No, quite the opposite. Prentiss' armor was almost as thick and well-fortified as his. And, he'd always respected that.

Until tonight.

Tonight, whether he wanted to admit it or not, something had shifted inside him. What had began as genuine concern for a colleague had slowly altered into something more for him. Something, as yet, indefinable. And, quite possibly, it would be safer for both of them were that to remain the case.

Hearing her muffled cough through her closed bedroom door, Hotch glanced apprehensively toward her room. Looking at his clock again, he mentally calculated how long it had been since her last medication. She could have more. But, he hated to disturb her if she was actually sleeping.

Shoving his covers aside, Hotch sat up on the side of his bed and stared across the darkened hallway at the closed door of her room, wishing like hell he had x-ray vision. But his superpowers had long ago succumbed to the inevitability of adulthood. Finally pushing himself off the mattress, Hotch trudged toward the sound of her strangled cough.

And as he stood outside her door, he hesitated. What was the worst she could do? Scream? Throw a book at him? Shoot him?

Frowning as that thought struck him, he decided that maybe a light rap against the wooden door might be a good idea. Knocking gently, he waited for a sound. Hearing nothing, he opened the door slowly.

She was resting on her back in the center of the bed, propped against a mound of pillows. And for a moment, he was struck by the serenity of her slack face. Never during a waking moment had she ever looked so guileless. One thing he'd learned about Emily over the years was that she remained on her guard, even in the most comfortable settings or circumstances. It was another thing they had in common, and he wondered if that was how his face appeared in slumber.

Unable to resist, he touched one flushed cheek tenderly, the feverish warmth seeping into his fingers. Despite the heat of her skin, he took the time to momentarily marvel at the silky softness of the flesh beneath his fingertips and allowed himself just one stolen moment to fantasize about what it seemed could never be.

What he would never allow to be.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: We have a couple of announcements for you all today. We're proud to announce that signups are open for the Fanfic Challenge - Round 4 on our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" or, as we like to call it, the "PYOP Challenge" (pick your own pairing challenge) through September 1st. For those interested, simply go to the forum to the PWOP Challenge thread and sign up with your favorite pairing. On September 2nd, we'll assign you a scenario to write provided by some of our lovely fellow authors. This will give everybody an opportunity to write what they love and provide readers with some awesome stories. Please sign up at the forum or shoot us a PM signifying your willingness to participate. So, please come join the fun and let's make this the most successful challenge yet!**_

_**Also, we've opened a new thread called, "Find a Fic...with the help of all your friends". Ever had a story for which you simply couldn't recall the title. This thread is the place to begin searching. Details can be found on the thread. I hope you all find it a helpful addition to the forum. As always, any ideas for new threads are welcome!**_

_**And, as always, thanks to everybody still reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting our stories. We couldn't do this without your support!**_

**The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship**

**Chapter Four**

Emily could feel the searching eyes on her before her own eyes opened. Years of having nannies traipsing in and out of her bedroom had honed her instincts, the darkness serving only to camouflage the seeker. Not to mention that her job had conditioned her to be alert for changes in her surroundings, however small they may be.

Keeping her breathing even, Emily remained still, feigning sleep, as gentle fingertips caressed her cheek.

Hotch.

She might not know his touch. But she could recognize his scent...could sense his presence. Even in a room filled with people, she'd always known when he was near. Her traitorous body was attuned to his, though she was hesitant to admit it. She often tried to chalk it up to them being partnered together so often. But, if she was honest, she knew it was much more than that.

More than she wanted to admit or give voice to. Not now. And perhaps not ever.

Speaking softly without lifting her eyelids, she asked hoarsely, breaking the spell, "Did my coughing wake you?"

She felt his fingers drop away from her face quickly, almost as if her fevered skin had seared the pads of his fingers.

"I was concerned," he answered quietly, his voice further away than she anticipated. He must have taken a few steps back from the bed, although she hadn't heard any footsteps. "And you looked feverish," he added belatedly, deftly explaining away his all too brief touch against her face.

Slowly opening her eyes, Emily's vision took a moment to adjust to the dim room before she found his shadowed form standing a small distance from the bed. "I guess I am a little warm," she nodded, slowly sitting up in the bed as her vision swam.

"Do you want me to grab another dose of you medicine?" Hotch asked magnanimously as he watched her hand reach out, balancing against the rumpled quilt. "Enough time has passed for another round, if you want to take one."

"Actually, I could use something to drink, too," Emily replied, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, the sudden motion requiring far more energy than she had previously remembered. Honestly, Prentiss, she chided herself sternly, this is just a small chest cold. Buck up and quit acting like such a girl! But her internal chastisement apparently had no effect on her weakened body, her balance not improving as quickly as she would have preferred.

"Whoa," Hotch said, moving forward smoothly to grab her arm as she slowly stood on shaky feet. "Why don't you just let me bring something up for you?"

Shaking her head determinedly, Emily waved him off, ignoring the sudden stitch in her side. "I need to stretch anyway. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate borrowing your teapot and a shot of your finest whiskey."

"A hot toddy, huh?" Hotch surmised, moving aside as she slowly moved toward the door, his hand held to the side in the perfect angle to grab her if the occasion rose.

"You read my mind," Emily agreed easily, her voice raspy as she weaved on her feet and grabbed the door jamb for leverage.

"Prentiss," Hotch said deeply from behind her as one arm slipped around her narrow waist supportively, "Why don't I ride shotgun on this little field trip of yours. Just as a precaution. I hear that travelling in pairs is always more enjoyable, anyway."

Silently grateful for the solid weight of his arm around her, Emily tried to smile. "Afraid I'll burn your house down in my stupor? And I thought we agreed to first names for the weekend?"

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind," Hotch replied, his lips twitching. "And as to the other, old habits die hard, I guess."

"Especially when you're trying to pull rank," Emily pointed out, unable to ignore the way her body willingly leaned against his arm.

When had she become dependent on Aaron Hotchner? And how long was this going to last?

Watching as Hotch moved efficiently around his kitchen, collecting the ingredients for her toddy, Emily smiled. He looked so surreal to her, standing in his faded blue pajamas, padding barefoot around the kitchen like it was the most natural place in the world for him to be. This had to be a dream, didn't it? Hotch, making her a hot toddy at three in the morning...this was some kind of weird alterna-world generated by those so-called wonder drugs that the doctor had insisted she take. It had to be.

Because, truly…this was never something Emily Prentiss could have imagined in her current reality.

Grabbing the honey from the cabinet, Hotch asked over his shoulder, "Do you put lemon juice in yours, Emily?"

Shrugging, Emily swallowed painfully as she glanced at the small plastic bear-shaped container. "Right now, I'd take anything that numbed my throat. You can pour straight whiskey down there, for all I care," she said, nodding toward the open bottle waiting oh-so-patiently on the counter.

Frowning, Hotch turned to stare at her as he put the pot on to boil. "You're hurting?" he asked softly, concerned.

"A little," Emily replied carelessly, attempting to dismiss the unease she heard in his tone.

"A lot, if you're actually admitting to it," Hotch snorted, reaching for a low highball glass from the cabinet. Pouring just enough of the amber liquid to coat the bottom of the glass, he quickly shook out another antibiotic pill and a couple of pain relievers from their respective bottles. "Here," he said, sliding both across the counter to her.

Popping her pills zealously, Emily quickly reached for the alcohol, chasing the capsules down. The initial burn of the liquor was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but quickly, the numbness set in, relieving some of the discomfort in her throat. "Thanks," she whispered, dropping the glass back to the counter as she let out a sigh of relief.

Nodding, Hotch quickly moved the pot to the unlit burner as it whistled. Preparing the tea with a minimum of fuss, he slid the steaming cup in front of her seconds later.

"You're a continual amazement, Aaron Hotchner," Emily mused, dropping the cup back to the saucer after taking a long first sip, the heated brew coating where the liquor had missed. "That's perfect."

"I used to make them for...," Hotch began, abruptly stopping as he realized what he'd been about to reflexively divulge.

"For Haley," Emily said softly. Watching as his brow furrowed and his lips pursed, she shook her head.

How in the world had she managed to find her way to Aaron Hotchner's home in the middle of night….to talk about his dead ex-wife?


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: We have a couple of announcements for you all today. We're proud to announce that signups are open for the Fanfic Challenge - Round 4 on our forum, "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" or, as we like to call it, the "PYOP Challenge" (pick your own pairing challenge) through September 1st. For those interested, simply go to the forum to the PWOP Challenge thread and sign up with your favorite pairing. On September 2nd, we'll assign you a scenario to write provided by some of our lovely fellow authors. This will give everybody an opportunity to write what they love and provide readers with some awesome stories. Please sign up at the forum or shoot us a PM signifying your willingness to participate. So, please come join the fun and let's make this the most successful challenge yet!**_

_**Also, we've opened a new thread called, "Find a Fic...with the help of all your friends". Ever had a story for which you simply couldn't recall the title. This thread is the place to begin searching. Details can be found on the thread. I hope you all find it a helpful addition to the forum. As always, any ideas for new threads are welcome!**_

_**And, as always, thanks to everybody still reading, reviewing, alerting and favoriting our stories. We couldn't do this without your support!**_

**The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship**

**Chapter Five**

Watching as Aaron stared unseeingly into the distance, Emily whispered, "You still have trouble talking about her, don't you?"

"There's a lot of water under that bridge, Emily. And it's probably best if it stays there," Hotch replied grimly, finally drawing his eyes back to the raven-haired beauty propped against the granite bar.

"I'm sorry," Emily apologized, averting her gaze, truly sorry for ever muttering the other woman's name. The last thing she wanted to do was make her boss feel uncomfortable inside his own home.

Damn, Hotch thought tiredly to himself as her simple words flooded over him. He hadn't meant to be so terse with her. Especially, not with her. But he was still confused about how and what he felt for his late ex-wife. Even after all this time.

"Haley is still someone I have trouble talking about, Emily. Even with those closest to me," Hotch finally confided, staring down at his own steaming mug. "People tell me that it gets easier with time...I just haven't seen it yet."

"You still love her," Emily commented softly, toying with the handle to her own cup nervously, finally raising her eyes back to his. "It's understandable. And quite frankly, you don't strike me as the type of guy that would tell his own brother his deepest darkest feelings."

"I've never done well explaining myself," Hotch replied, nodding once, content with that simple admissions.

"Use me as a practice dummy then," Emily returned cheekily, suddenly grinning, the earlier weight disappearing for a brief second.

"A dummy?" Hotch repeated, his eyes glimmering with suppressed mirth.

Pointing her spoon at him like a weapon, she shook her head. "No teasing. I'm too easy a target right now and at some point, you will give me my service weapon back."

"Good point," Hotch conceded, straight-faced in spite of the brief moment of levity. Sighing heavily as he leaned his arms against the kitchen island separating them, he said, slowly, "Haley and I...we were both good people. It just got to the point where we couldn't be good people together. Toward the end, we brought out the worst in each other. I shut down and she never shut up."

"What you're describing sounds typical of any dissolving marriage, Hotch," Emily stated softly, taking another sip from her mug, memories of her own parents coming to mind unbidden.

"Yeah, I guess. Before she died, we'd finally found a way to be civil to each other. Hell, some would even say cordial. She was supposed to finally be safe from the kind of bullshit I saw on a daily basis. But, even a divorce from me couldn't save her. It shouldn't have happened the way it did."

"Aaron," Emily murmured, swallowing hard as she heard the sudden anger and fear flooding his voice, "We could say that of every unsub's victim we see. It's NEVER supposed to happen the way we've seen it go down. But that isn't your fault."

"If not for me..."

"If not for you, you wouldn't have saved your son...HER son. We can't predict the motivations of the psychotic mind. We aren't seers with a crystal ball. It wasn't your fault."

Shaking his head, he muttered, his tone gruff, "You make it too easy. I can't be absolved from responsibility just because you say so."

"Absolution is not necessary if no sin was committed," Emily retorted gently, pressing her lips to the warm mug again. Seeing his mouth quickly open, she held up her free hand, stalling any further comments. Clearing her throat, she added, softly, "I know what you're going to say, Aaron, and you can hold yourself accountable for the dissolution of your marriage if you wish. But blaming yourself for Haley's death? I don't think so. You didn't pull the trigger."

"But no one can object that I was at least an accomplice. Complicit."

His tone was filled with weary resignation, and she could easily tell that he had fought this same battle many times before. Perhaps many nights before. Swallowing hard, the scratchiness in her throat ebbing slightly, she whispered, "I can't take your pain or regret away, Aaron. All I can do is tell you that no one we know blames you." Meeting his dark eyes, she smiled weakly as she ordered, "And I really wish you wouldn't blame yourself."

Her simple words seemed to wash over him, the surrealness of the conversation holding more gravity because of the midnight hour. Perhaps he had needed the absolution her simple support had immediately brought him, the momentary lightness in his soul bearing witness to the slow change around him.

His eyes narrowed suddenly as he watched Emily lean heavily against the counter, her weakened condition obviously apparent once again. Forcing his thoughts back to the immediate, to the present, Aaron took a step forward as he reached for her half-empty mug.

Emily's eyes widened as she surrendered the cup, watching as he dropped it back to the granite counter. Feeling his hand press against the small of her back, she met his dark eyes as she murmured, "I guess I'm done with the tea?"

"You're beginning to sway on your feet, Prentiss," he said evenly, propelling her out of the kitchen and back down the short hallway. "I think your body is attempting to remind you that you need rest. Not philosophical discussions on the past and present meaning of life in the middle of my messy kitchen."

Wisely, she kept her thoughts to herself, the tinge of finality in his words providing her just enough insight into his thoughts once again. Her fever-addled mind was still functioning enough to recognize the barrier he was suddenly locking tightly into place. It doesn't matter, she told herself with a slight yawn. The normally taciturn Aaron Hotchner had allowed those shields to fall just enough tonight. And for a man as skilled as he was at protecting his every thought, those exposed chinks in his armor were the equivalent of a miracle.

Watching as she once again crawled beneath the cotton quilt, Hotch waited until she settled her dark head against the starched pillowcase, her eyelids already fluttering closed. "Good night, Prentiss," he said softly.

"Emily," she murmured, a yawn escaping her lips as she tugged the quilt tighter against her chin, the mixture of alcohol, tea and company beginning to take its inevitable toll. "You can call me Emily."

"Emily it is," Hotch agreed gently, flipping off the overhead light as he moved across the hall.

And as she listened to the sounds of Aaron Hotchner settling into his bed, the squeaks of the springs announcing his location, Emily Prentiss finally let her eyes close completely, one last thought lingering on her mind.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

A mere twelve hours later, Emily Prentiss stared down in disbelief at the telephone, the call long since disconnected. Her mind replayed the very unreal conversation she had just had, every detail flashing back with perfect recollection.

Surely someone was wrong, she thought determinedly, refusing to accept what she had just heard. She was a Prentiss, after all, wasn't she? And a member of the Prentiss clan just did not get sick, let along have serious medical. Ever. It was not allowed.

And yet, she told herself blankly, here she was. Sick.

Well, maybe even more than just mere sick. The doctor had been non-committal at best on the phone, but Emily Prentiss was nobody's fool. She knew enough to know that doctors did not call their patients back in for extra tests…on a weekend, at that…for no apparent reason.

A weakened immune system….excessively high white blood cell count…abnormalities in her blood work….what did all of that mean?

Shaking her head soundly as she dropped the phone back onto the dresser of the guest bedroom, Emily stared at her reflection in the wavering vintage mirror. And in that moment, she wondered if it would be possible to tell if something was wrong with her body. Was there some miracle of modern science that would provide her with that necessary skill?

Hearing the faint sound of footsteps growing louder, Emily squared her shoulders as she forced a smile on her face. No matter what, she told herself firmly, she was not going to burden Aaron Hotchner with any further worries about her or her health. Doctors had been wrong before, and she was certain this one was now, too.

Emily Prentiss had a weekend to recuperate and to enjoy spending time with the man that was slowly becoming her friend. And at that moment in time, that miracle was far more important than any of the daunting unknowns in her life.

_**finis**_

_**Author's Note 2: For those wondering, this story is the prequel to our next Hotch/Emily epic, "In Sunshine or In Shadow". Emily's fate will hang in the balance when she receives life altering news. We have the first three chapters written and hope to publish our introduction next Saturday. Let us know what you think! We love hearing from you.**_


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